Edelweiss
by Seisu
Summary: In which Skull totally forgot to mention how he kinda was the Man-Who-Conquered and had met the Arcobaleno before... not really. He totally remembered. Or the Arcobaleno finally understood that Skull didn't really have the safest life despite being a civilian ("Could he really be counted as a civilian?" Colonello asked. "He was a fucking child soldier!")
1. 1: The Start of Chaos

Disclaimer: Why on Earth would I write a fanfic if I own the anime/book?

A/N: Don't expect too much of me. This is my first fanfic. Plus, English isn't my first language so there _will_ be some mistakes. Do enjoy. :)

xXx

First and foremost, Skull had decided that it was Verde's fault.

Of course, it probably wouldn't have been a problem in the first place had he _deigned_ to tell the Arcobaleno (who was practically _family_ by then; being as close as they could be without being under the same Sky) of his past but still-!

It was Verde's fault.

What kind of person thought it was fit to test a prolonged reverse version of Ten Year Bazooka on a teammate?!

A deranged mad scientist.

Yeah, _maybe_ Verde would never test a prototype on him without making sure it was safe by using another person (a.k.a a prisoner who had slighted the scientist in some kind of way). And _yeah_ , _maybe_ it was not Verde's fault for thinking that Skull had had the most _ordinary_ and safest life Before Arcobaleno, being the only civilian and everything. Skull must also admit that he had a bit over than 33 years heads-up to actually tell the Arcobaleno something.

But.

Things happen, _damnit_.

It was absolutely _not_ his fault.

How would he tell them, anyway? Hey, my name was actually Harry Potter before this and I saved the Wizarding World but I had to run away because some idiots decided I was a threat and wanted to deal with me.

Yeah, right.

Never mind the more temperamental Arcobaleno, even Fon himself would have flipped out if he was told something like that…

Okay. Maybe some of it was his fault. 33 years was _not_ a short time, after all.

He was just being petty.

Well, Skull thought, they deserve it.

xXx

Verde had came up with a safe way to accelerate their de-infatization. Instead of aging normally which would take at least another decade, they could acquire their former bodies in about a month. (Colonello was very much delighted by this discovery, seeing as the obvious age gap between him and Lal could finally be rectified.)

The downside was they needed to live together during the process until Verde determine their flames were stabilized enough.

(Not really a downside because well, they had been through this Before.)

It didn't really matter to him but he needed his old body to perform stunts and Skull missed the thrill more than he was willing to admit.

So they decided to live in the Arcobaleno Mansion -the one they lived in with Luce Before- for the period. (Reborn was the one who suggested this and the rest agreed because it seemed just _right!_ ) It was like a vacation of some sort, to be honest.

The Day (Everything-Went-to-Shit) started just fine. It was not very sunny which had admittedly got Skull's guard down because Potter Luck usually chose a sunny day to rear its ugly head.

(Sometimes, Skull wondered if Potter Luck and Fate were the same being. Both of them seemed to treat him as a personal chew toy.)

It was a lethargic morning, Skull supposed, the kind that he wouldn't mind sleeping in.

To prove it, the other Arcobaleno themselves were taking the day easy.

Fon was in his meditation pose, a completely serene expression on his face. Lal and Colonello were taking their assortment of firearms apart and putting them back together again, like a game. Mammon was settled down comfortably in the couch at the corner, scribbling in a notebook while murmuring something incomprehensible. Verde had been tinkering with _God-know-what_ down in his lab, judging by the occasional explosions.

Skull was floored by Reborn in a game of poker.

"Gah!!" Skull's eye twitched when Reborn yet _again_ pull out a royal flush. "You're cheating, Senpai!"

"Oh?" Smugness bled into the Italian hitman's voice. Reborn tugged on his fedora, letting it shadow his eyes menacingly. "Can you prove it, _Lackey_?"

This insufferable _prat_! "No one can possibly pull royal flush _three_ times in a row!"

"Nothing's impossible." Reborn smirked. He pulled out a Leon-gun out of literally nowhere and aimed it at Skull in quick succession. "Now, make me an espresso."

Skull huffed. "You could have asked nicely, you know, like a norm- _Hey_!" He jumped out of the chair just as the hitman pulled the trigger.

"Fine." Skull scowled. "I'm going to make tea anyway."

Skull turned away to head for the kitchen, rolling his eyes inwardly. There was no way Reborn was going to request something nicely. Reborn wasn't really a nice person in the first place. Well, he could always play a good prank on the git later.

That was when Verde emerged out of his lab (for the first time since um three? four? days, he couldn't remember), looking as messy as a -well, mad scientist. He didn't come up empty-handed; on his shoulder was a bazooka.

'It could be a normal bazooka,' thought Skull optimistically, eyeing the weapon in dread.

Alas, that was not the case.

The others stared at the Lightning Arcobaleno or the bazooka in specific in wariness.

"I've modified the Ten Year Bazooka," announced Verde, smirking (a smirk that was more Mad Scientist Grin than comfortable). "It is capable of swapping a person with his or her past self for 15 minutes."

In hindsight, Skull could probably dodge.

He didn't.

And so the Great Skull de Mort-Sama disappeared with a poof!


	2. 2: The Middle of Discord

Disclaimer: KHR and Harry Potter don't belong to this lowly person.

A/N: Oh dear lord, are you guys spoiling me? More than 500 people favourite this story? Thank you for reading this fanfic!!

Anyway, in this story, the events in Harry's life are (mostly) canon up until the part where Sirius dies, okay? There will be ( fairly huge) changes after that. Please tell me if there are any inconsistencies; I'd like to fix it.

[ I thought about letting Skull swapped with his twelve-year-old self (just for the cuteness overload factor) but Harry kinda intervened and insisted that I tell everyone how much woe he was in. ]

xXx

Exactly 35 years and 5 minutes in the past, Harry Potter was treating his wounds, or at the very least trying to.

He was sitting on his bed inside the heavily warded tent (courtesy to the Ancient Rune class he had taken when he dropped Divination -"You're right. Thank you, Hermione."-), not unlike the one Mr. Weasley had brought to the Quidditch Cup.

The interior of the one-room tent was dimly lit by an oil lamp. Various possessions and a good smattering of rubbish were strewn in the room. Wild bird feathers (which just reminded him of Sirius when he was on the run), sweet wrappers and odd trinkets littered the floor; a good mess of newspaper (that he procured under a glamour or ones that were sent by his friends) lay on the small table beside his bed. The headline on the most eye-catching one (which has the moving picture of him- frowning at the cameras and bewildered) blared:

 _HARRY POTTER: A SCOUNDREL?_

 _Harry Potter, 15, famously renowned for defeating He Who Must Not Be Named at the tender age of fifteen months old, has been charged by the Wizengamot for the crimes of 'breaking and entering' and 'destruction of Ministry property'._ Highly _placed sources within the Ministry have confirmed that Potter has leaded a group of 'followers' who shall remain nameless to break into the Ministry on the 18th of June._ _Though his motive was of yet unknown, a growing number of the wizarding community believes that the Boy-Who-Lives was attempting to steal a precious item from the fabled Department of Mysteries. The nature of the item is unknown, although speculation is rife that it concerns the obsessive belief of Potter regarding the issue 'He Who Must Not Be Named has returned'. Some are going so far as to claim that Harry Potter is deranged, believing it is a result of seeing Cedric Diggory, the representative of Hogwart for the Triwizard, died during the third task._ _The current whereabouts of Harry Potter are unknown, although the Ministry has issued a restraining order if (cont. page 2, column 5)_ A second newspaper lay beside the first. This one bore the Headline:

 _LUCIUS MALFOY SUCCEEDS DUMBLEDORE_

Most of this front page was taken up with a large black-and-white picture of Lucius. The picture was moving - the bastard was smirking and waving at the invisible crowd.

 _Lucius Malfoy has succeeded Albus Dumbledore as Chief Warlock of Wizengamot. The appointment has largely been greeted with fair enthusiasm by the wizarding community, who believes that Dumbledore is past his prime and it is time for the new generation to take up the mantle._ _Recently, the newly appointed Chief Warlock, Lucius Malfoy, spoke of the-_

What he spoke of was obscured by the large empty birdcage standing on top of it. Its absent occupant, a brilliant snowy owl with Hedwig as her name, was under Hermione's care (as Harry could not afford for being outed because someone tracked him through his owl).

(Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Harry James Potter was on the run.

The day after the battle in the Hall of Prophecy, after the first battle of their war, after Dumbledore explained his role in the damned prophecy, the Ministry was determined to keep things down and had stormed into Hogwart, demanding that they hand Harry over.

The students, his Army -bless their Magic- had quickly blocked him from view. The Slytherins gave him a change of robe and Harry slipped away from the Great Hall with none of the teachers or the Ministry officials the wiser.

No one expected the Golden Gryffindor to wear the colour of the snakes.

That very day, Harry gathered his supplies and ran away from Hogwart. He managed to convince Hermione and Ron to stay at Hogwart to be his eyes and ears.

Since then, he had been hunting information, keeping in contact with the Army, handing out orders, and gathering allies. Harry talked to Purebloods, those who still remembered Tom Marvolo Riddle, those who were afraid and those who knew what would happen if Voldemort was truly resurrected.

Before long, he put his pieces together.

Horcrux.

Or that was what he _thought_ at first.

Dumbledore found him.

He didn't stop Harry. Didn't ask him to stay at the castle. Instead, he told him everything that he knew: the theories, the truth and his suspicion.

Horcruxes.

Harry wondered if things could get worse.

Dumbledore handed him the destroyed diary, the ring and the Sword of Gryffindor. Show him the ring and how it had injured him. His blackening hand. The curse was too strong, Harry had realised straight away. Dumbledore was dying.

He told him how much Tom was afraid of death and how he was certain that there were at least seven Horcruxes to be destroyed.

Of how it was possible -no, it was certain- that Harry was a Horcrux.

Well, things _could_ get worse, he had thought.

Harry thanked Dumbledore.

Harry quickly took a detour to the Chamber of Secret, determined to have another way of annihilating the horcruxes in the case that the Sword was ever lost.

He destroyed the ring there. In front of the statue of Salazar Slytherin, silently vowing to stop his heir.

No matter what.)

Harry set his wand on the table and the Sword of Gryffindor beside him; he was wary of using his wand although his Trace had been removed and tried to avoid using magic unless absolutely necessary.

He peeled the stained shirt (good thing it was one of the hand-me-down from Dudley) off and flung it away; the shirt landed upon the floor near a stack of spellbooks and Harry made a mental note to burn it later.

He was lucky; aside from some scrapes and scratch, there was only a cut which was not as bad as it looked (although some might beg to differ). The wound, a clean cut on his left shoulder -thank you for small mercies- was not deep and had already stopped bleeding.

Too lucky, if he must say it.

"Well, that's that. No use looking a gift horse in the mouth," he grumbled, grabbing a water bottle and a cloth, intent on cleaning the wound.

It would have been easier to use magic but unfortunately, he was magically drained.

That's to be expected. He had broken into Umbridge's house to get the Slytherin's Locket. (Imagine his surprise when the Horcrux Pointer that was made in collaboration with the goblins -and a heap of galleons- lead him to that toad.)

Needless to say, it was easier said than done.

It would have been easier if Hermione and Ron were there. Harry grimaced as he threw the cloth at the floor, having cleaned his wound properly. The Army still needs them. Hermione and Ron need to be at Hogwarts. For now, at least.

He smeared a nasty smelling ointment (frequently stocked up on his discrete visits to Hogwarts) on the wound.

He got the locket, though. For a fortnight, he had shadowed Umbridge, going as far to memorize her schedule and enlisting Dobby's help.

Breaking into her house was easier than it should have been. In the dead of the night, under a disguise because he was not an idiot, Harry struck.

Harry had stunned the toad in her sleep.

Screw playing nice.

He took the locket and quickly left-

Was what he'd love to say.

Admittedly, Harry should have expected that a woman of her position would have had a better security system.

Constant vigilance… Sorry, Moody.

A team of Aurors appeared right when he took the locket. The ensuing fight was intense, mainly because Harry had been trained by Moody who was the best, mind you and he was outnumbered five to one.

He managed to get away with an Apparation -that he didn't botch up, thank Merlin.

Now he was just bandaging his wound. Harry had destroyed the locket straight away, too anxious by the vile emitting aura to wait.

Maybe he could sleep his exhaustion away. He sure deserved it.

But since when does Harry Potter get what he wants because he deserves it?

A tug on his core was all the warning he got before a puff of pink smoke started to block his vision. By reflexe, Harry lunged for his wand and the sword but he only managed to hold on to the sword before the smoke completely enveloped his body.

Then, he was thrown into an awful familiar but unfamiliar squeezing sensation.

The first thing he heard was:

" _Un Cielo?"_

xXx

A/N: Are you angry? Here a cliffhanger for your Christmas present. Cue evil laughter.

(Sorry it's rushed. I want to post it before 26th. I will edit it later… maybe)


	3. 3: The Centre of Disharmony

Disclaimer: If I own Harry Potter or Katekyo Hitman Reborn, you won't be reading this, won't you?

A/N: If you guys notice, I edited the last line in second chapter.

["A sky?" = "Un Cielo?']

Because the Arcobaleno talk in Italian. There's no way Harry understands them unless there is a language-translating spell (that he by the way hadn't used at the time).

Thanks for the reviews, everyone. I appreciate that you take the time to read this faulty fanfic full of errors. I feel really humbled.

xXx

Skull was, for the lack of better word, unpredictable.

Verde, in particular, hated unpredictability.

Most would be confused by these two statements. By anyone's standard (in the Mafia), Skull, for his part, was not really that unpredictable, only a bit impulsive and free-spirited; if anything, Reborn took the cake when it comes to unpredictability and chaos.

Verde knew _better_.

Generally, Dying Will Flame is defined essentially as a dense form of aura, made from the wave energy that's present in the body as life force. The balance is similar in relatives, hence resulting in family members often having the same flames.

The stereotype that Dying Will Flames dictate personalities such as hot-headed Storms and ever-accepting Skies was **completely** untrue-

Was what any pathetic scientist with incomplete information would have said.

Verde, of course, was beyond these waste-for-spaces.

People with Flames did have their brains wired differently than those who don't. It was inevitable; a mafioso already viewed the world differently compared to a civilian. Add the ability to turn their own resolve into power way beyond normal and **BAM**! There you go. Verde even had the MRI to prove it (which by the way, he obtained from a bit over six dozens ' _volunteers_ ').

Instincts that were associated with Flames do exist. Flames of the Sky, for instance, seek out Harmony and depend more on comrades compared to their counterpart, Flames of the Earth.

Perceiving the world was different for a Mafioso; a normal person who saw his or her hand is on fire would scream in fright. A proper Mafia would be caught dead in pink sparkly tutu with unicorns shedding tears of gold by their side before that happens.

Which means never.

Generally speaking, some (many) laws of the nature don't apply on people with Flames and the prolonged use of Flames affect the way people think and subsequently, their personalities.

(The Mafia was basically a bunch of lawless imbeciles anyway.)

Personality was still determined by other factors aside from Flames such as education and environment, resulting in different ways of integration of Flames Instincts.

In conclusion, Flames come with a set of unique instincts that were projected in a different way according to the individual and the purity of their flame.

Now, Verde knew the Arcobaleno - granted, he was in deeper than he had ever imagined. ("No one would expect 'being turned into an infant' as one of the job description," he consoled himself.)

The Arcobaleno were the Greatest; the Best at their respective fields and the Purest Flames users.

Which basically means that their personalities _reek_ of Flames' Instincts.

The Skies are all about acceptance. Aria and Yuni had been the stellar examples of a proper Sky. It doesn't matter to a Sky if it was a killer, mad genius or a saint. What matter was whether they are able to bond or not. Skies tend to be possessive; it was unavoidable. (He suspected that if the Fated Day -Luce's betrayal- didn't happen, maybe all of them had a chance for a Harmony with Luce.)

All Storms desire something - be it wealth, love, acceptance or calmness. They went to a great length (possibly self-destructive) to obtain their objectives. Verde remembered a particular event when that little apprentice of Fon was kidnapped by the Triad in order to have a semblance of control over the Storm- none of the assailants had any remain to speak of and an entire brach of the Clan was gone by the morning. (Verde shuddered to think what would happen if Fon was Harmonized.)

Rains are the backbone of the group- the reliable ones. They were the loyal for years on end type, the ace of the team, the one that can be trusted. They were hardly the calmest type -some of them could be pretty hot-blooded- but their presence brought some kind of relief. Colonnello was one of such.

(Lal Mirch had the hardest of time when the Rain pacifier chose Colonnello instead of her. The rebound had caused her aura to disorient so much that her Rain Flames transformed into Rain-Mist-Cloud Flames combination. Even Fon admitted that her mood swings were the worst at the time.)

Suns are intensely active. This trait could be demonstrated through either physical way or mental one. Of course, there were also _monsters_ that could balance both like Reborn who just defied the limit of a human casually. Plus, his restlessness and tendency to create chaos wherever he goes could be attributed to the Sun Flame.

Verde figured out Lightning Flame pretty fast. Lightnings strive for achievement. This could range from taking over the world to obtaining someone's approval.

Mists are imaginative and creative. Lava pits and creatures are one thing, but disguises and more make the Mist Flame the most creative people because they're constantly exercising what they imagine and making it real with as much detail as they can imagine. There was a reason Viper -Mammon- is the best Mist. They -he? she? Verde hadn't found out yet- could construct an illusion catering to the opponent's (read: victim) mentality; playing with their minds until he or she doesn't know which is right and which is left.

Clouds want independence. They find ways to achieve it being free from society, to being free from any claim to being free from relationships but the ones they choose; it's also the reason Clouds are the hardest to harmonize with. They want the ability to chose and not just have choices thrust upon them. They are just as possessive as Skies, maybe even more. They are also the best fighter, often going on offense.

Skull -he was an anomaly.

The fact that he was an Inverted Cloud was still fine -as rare as that was. Skull's behaviour might hadn't aligned with that of a normal Cloud, but his base was covered, at least. His Cloud Instincts were demonstrated through his live-threatening stunts; Verde heard it was freeing to some people.

All in all, Skull was pretty normal.

Of course, this was a _false_ hypothesis.

Skull was loud-

(Skull was a brat. A rebellious punk-rock teenager with brightly dyed hair, multiple piercings and penchant for leather and motorcycle.

He'd complaint about anything and would definitely be the most upset after a betrayal.

Yet.

That Fated Day, he'd said _nothing_ , slipping away in the chaos.

Verde thought that he was just in a shock.

Looking back, Verde realized that Skull just looked resigned.)

A coward-

(They were hunted down.

"Are you _scared_ , Verde?"

Verde's eye twitched when he saw the stupidly blinding grin the purple haired infant had on.

"Gah!" he exclaimed. "Speak for yourself."

Skull laughed, showing off a string of pearly teeth and striking a pose so horrendous that Verde itched just to hit him.

"THE GREAT SKULL-SAMA IS NOT AFRAID OF- GAH!"

"Shut up, Skull."

Verde was relieved that the atmosphere had lightened up.)

Weakest of them all-

(Skull died in a blaze of purple fire.

Verde was the only one present to witness it.

He could only say that he was glad that the only remain of their infant body after death was the pacifier.

None of the others could bear to see that _foolish_ smile on their Cloud.)

Conclusion: Skull was hiding something and it was high time that Verde find out what it is.

(Not to mention the worrying fact that Skull hadn't displayed the infamous Cloud rage even after all the pushing Reborn and Colonnello had done.

After all, even if he was said to be the weakest, he was still the _strongest_ Cloud in the world.

His Rage would probably be _catastrophic_.)

xXx

'And finally,' Verde thought triumphantly, 'this Bazooka will answer all the questions I have.'

After all, in order to understand a problem, you should examine the source of the problem and what better way to find out someone's past than to make him exchange place with his younger self?

(He knew he should asked instead but each of the Arcobaleno had this tacit understanding not to ask about each others' background and it would be awkward to ask now. Not that he cared about such mundane matter.)

The Lightning ex-Arcobaleno stared with anticipation as the pink cloud dissipated, already having a notebook out for recording observations.

'Huh?'

Verde felt his world cracked a little when he saw a not-Skull appearing out from where younger Skull should be.

Because Skull was not a Sky. Nor should he had glasses. Or a sword.

Verde heard a mocking voice announced:

"Ding dong, you're wrong."

("Why do you _always_ mess up my experiments?!" The green haired infant shouted out of frustration. "The probability of meeting a dual Flame user -Mist and Sun, which is by the way the rarest dual type- that can affect this gadget is next to _impossible_!!"

"I'm telling you! This isn't _my_ fault! I don't go looking for trouble, _damn_ it! Trouble usually finds _me_!")

xXx

A/N: I'm glad this chapter is over. I literally wrote it from three different characters' POV before finally settling on Verde's. Anyway, three chapters down, four to go. Sorry for the late release. I'm in a boarding school so you know what that mean...


	4. The Meeting of Trouble

A/N: Okay, I know it's been like 8 months. I thought about just dropping this fic cos real life and lack of motivation, you know? The writer's block just won't go away... But I want to have a complete fic to my name soooooooo here you go. Take it as a Christmas (Yule, whatever you guys are into) gift.

Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own Harry Potter or Katekyo Hitman Reborn.┐('～`,)┌

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid. Potter, you stupid bloody idiot.  
_  
The situation didn't bode well for Harry at all. He had only managed to grab the Gryffindor Sword before he was whisked away; his wand was out of reach - _oh, why did he let his guard down?_ Though it might have made no difference as his magic repertory hadn't fully recovered yet - but the extra security won't hurt! Not to mention his injuries hadn't healed enough yet (Madam Pomfrey's ointment only worked wonders, not miracles, thank you very much), he was at a major disadvantage here - in an unknown location and bad condition with no ally.

 _How in the bleeding hell did they -whoever they are, Death Eaters or Ministry- summon him anyway?_ He had cast a thorough _revelio_ on himself earlier - no tracking spell or portkey was detected.

Did someone sell him out? Doubtful - no one, not even Ron and Hermione, knew where he was. Are the others safe? Was he going to die - or worse tortured? Wait, he already knew how _crucio_ felt like.

Questions flashed in his head - he always seems to think better under pressure, asking all the right questions, but this was no time for thinking and making theories. There was basically no time for an overblown panic to properly set in before Harry cut off the train of thoughts ruthlessly, shoving them away in favour of getting into 'fight or flight' mode. (Not that he really had any choice in the first place.)

Harry didn't wait for the first spell to fly; he turned on his heels sharply, flowing into a defensive stance: relaxed with one foot slightly forward, ready to strike. The sword was swung to his front and Harry was careful not to grip too hard.

Harry scanned the surrounding quickly -a nice fancy sitting room that reminded him of those prestigious muggle hotels that the Dursley always bragged of -, noting that there were six of the opposite party, all but one (who was wearing a muggle lab coat) sitting in a completely relaxed manner, staring at him.

Hold on; what?

'Is that a bazooka?' Harry felt his jaw almost slackened, completely baffled by the scene of zero Death Eater-ish before him. (His mind noted the fact that the bazooka was pointed at where he was just standing earlier and that the bazooka was still smoking -it was just used!)

Where's the dungeon? The torture chamber? Correct him if he was wrong but Death Eaters wouldn't summon him for tea and biscuits, right?

What were the chances that a pureblood supremacist would dress up as Muggle? (The only one who was dressed remotely like a wizard -witch?- was the cloaked one seated furthest away from him.)

Or using Muggle's weapons? (Are those firearms on the floor?!)

There were so many things wrong with the scene that he didn't even know where to start. His mind was overwhelmed with thoughts; worry for his friends, fatigue and wariness, boosting his unfortunately deeply-rooted paranoia. Now, this! Whatever this is!

So he said the first coherent thought his mind meticulously conjured:

"Huh?"

 _Smooth, Potter, smooth_.

A second - or maybe more because he was feeling a bit fuzzy there - passed before one of them - a man in black Muggle suit and fedora - spoke up.

"Verde, spiegare."

'What is that even supposed to mean?' Harry barely caught what the man - Mr Sideburn, he decided - said. Was there some kind of mistake? Was he summoned by mistake? Knowing his luck, this might just be the case. So far, nothing had happened yet.

The scientist - his hair was green; is that dye or magic? - launched into a long rant that Harry can't make head or tail of, simultaneously putting down the bazooka - thank goodness because Harry was getting more nervous about that particular weapon - and walked towards him. He whipped out a notebook out of nowhere and there was a glint in his eyes. Wait, wait, wait, mister!

'What's with these people?' Harry inched backwards, still keeping his sword up, until he was backed against the wall. These people were just too... calm. Calm in a not-Muggle way. (Especially the Chinese man; his placid smile was honestly creeping him out.) Shouldn't Muggles - or even wizards - be panicking when someone - injured and wielding a sword - appeared out of nowhere? They were dressed as Muggle and Harry couldn't feel a speck of magic from them. Squibs? That didn't explain how they managed to bring him here.

These people were plain suspicious. Unknown. _Dangerous._

He needed to get out of here.

*******************************************  
How curious.

Fon subtly hid his smile behind a sleeve, considering the Sky that had appeared instead of younger Skull. Appearance-wise, the sky didn't look like anything special - good-looking, yes but his features (Englishman? European?) were not uncommon. Fon was sure that he could blend in a crowd quite successfully.

Though, maybe not in his current get-up, injured and shirtless as he was. Fon wondered whether the boy - a boy with old eyes but still a boy - was involved in mafia or military. It would be easier for them to explain… if they wanted to, that is. Scrutinizing his eyes, Fon would have pegged him for a run-away from an abusive household, if not for the extra sword.

A teenager… in the present time, the Sky should be around 50 years old but Fon hadn't recognized the Sky from any famiglia Don he had encountered over the decades. Curiouser and curiouser. Such strong Sky Flames. Maybe he died?

"Huh?" The boy wasn't good at hiding his feeling at all. He was clearly confused when he saw them. Was he expecting someone else?

It was an odd day indeed that Verde's prototype - which Fon was confident had been tested at least a dozen times on unwilling candidates - failed.

Reborn's interest was also piqued if Fon hadn't seen the minutely raised eyebrow wrong. "Verde, explain."

The boy didn't understand Italian. Amusing.

"Impossible." Verde fixed his glasses, no doubt trying to find his bearings. "This is utterly impossible. The bazooka - it connects a person's flame to the one in the past. Unless this new subject has the same flame as Skull does, he shouldn't have been swapped with Skull. Yet," Verde moved closer to the boy, with an ominous glint in his eyes, "this subject is a Sky. So, the question is who is this subject and how has he swapped with Skull?"

Fon felt like he should point out the fact that the boy probably knew less than they did on the subject.

Colonnello beat him to it. "I think the kid probably knows nothing kora."

The poor boy was already edging backwards away from Verde's approach, keeping his sword up in an endeavour to most probably dissuade Verde. Fon couldn't blame him really. Anyone - armed or not - would not desire to be the subject of Verde's curiosity.

"Who -" The Sky finally spoke up, eyes darting as if he was tracking each minute movement. His turbulence was masked skillfully. (It was nothing in front of the World's Greatest.) "Who are you?"

Fon watched with interest as Reborn rose up gracefully. "An Englishman, I presume?" Reborn stated in English, a smirk clear on his face as he approached the little Sky.

("Isn't that kid too young for Reborn?" Colonnello commented in a stage whisper (in Italian).

"Shhh.")

"Yes." The Sky was tense, not buying Reborn's act. "Who are you?" His eyes were mainly focused on Reborn, but he still threw glances at the other occupants.

"Now, now, bellezza." Reborn practically purred. "How about you offer your name first?"

The Sky looked more unnerved and subtly annoyed; perhaps, he realized what Reborn was treating him as - an entertainment. Sword still held evenly, he finally gritted out, "Harry."

It's a rather common name but Fon couldn't detect any lie from his short answer. He threw a look at Viper - the Greatest Information Broker - but they only furrowed their brows.

"Harry," Reborn sounded out the name as if he was trying to savour it. Heavens know how many unfortunate souls had fallen for his charm. "I'm known as Reborn. Or Renato Sinclair"

Harry didn't react to both names. It seemed unlikely now that he was in the Mafia if he didn't recognize Reborn's old name. Fon cocked his head to a side and exchanged looks with others. A flame-active civilian?

Reborn didn't seem deterred. Boldly, he moved closer to Harry, putting a hand on the sword. "Now, how about we put down the pretty sword, hm?"

Harry tensed further and opened his mouth to say something.

"That sword-!" Fon noticed Viper had stood up, oddly alert. The last time Fon had seen Viper this agitated was when the Mist had lost to Mukuro in the Ring Battle. Viper turned their eyes to the Sky. "You are… Harry Potter?"

As if the name was a trigger, Fon noticed three things happening simultaneously.

An explosion occurred. Reborn and Verde, the nearest ones, were thrown bodily aside.

The Sky was escaping.

He tried to move, only to find himself feeling intoxicated. He was apparently drunk on Sky Flames.

Fon vaguely remembered Verde saying that as their Flames shall be turbulent during the speed-up growing process, they would be more susceptible to Sky Flames.

Colonnello summed up their thought process, "Fuck."

A/N: The chapter is too long so I divide it into 2 parts, baa. Yes, I do believe that everyone in Arcobaleno including Fon, is a sadist. Hopefully, with me finally graduating (freedom!) I'll have more time to write.


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